A new perspective on the Advocate

Between Ascension and Pentecost, the early Church waited with a quiet ache for the promised Advocate. Jesus knew the opposition his followers would face in a wounded world. He refused to leave us orphaned: “I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Advocate to be with you always” (John 14:16).

I caught a glimpse of that advocacy a few weeks ago at the homeless shelter. Jacob had finally lined up two jobs, but everything depended on replacing his lost Social Security card. Without it, he couldn’t be hired. The problem? Appointments at the Social Security office were booked four weeks out.

I drove him there anyway, hoping they might work him in. “I’ll come back in a couple of hours,” I told him.

When I returned, he came jogging toward the van before I could even park. They had seen him—but only to schedule another appointment four weeks away. For someone with no home, no transportation, and no income, four weeks can feel like forever.

Jacob shrugged it off the way people accustomed to disappointment often do. But I could feel the weight of it pressing on him. All I managed to say was, “That really stinks.”

As I pulled out of the parking lot, something stirred in me. I sensed the Lord nudging me: Don’t just drive him. Stand beside him. Be his advocate.

That is not my comfort zone. I avoid confrontation whenever possible, especially in government offices guarded by implacable security officers. I muttered silently, “Really, Lord?” Yet the nudge remained.

After a few awkward moments of Jacob and me just sitting motionless in the parking lot, I finally turned the van around.  I told Jacob, “Wait here.” 

I had an idea.  Another man from the shelter was going to miss his appointment.  He was in jail.  I knew an opening would appear. The guard told me that when the absent man’s name was called, I could at least ask.

When the moment came, the agent initially dismissed me. “The system only allows me to help the person named.”

I explained Jacob’s situation. “He’s homeless, jobless, and can’t wait four weeks.”

Something softened. “Let me check,” she said.

After a little wait, she returned smiling.  In minutes, Jacob’s new card was ordered, and he walked out with paperwork employers would accept immediately. He has now been working for three weeks and saving for a car. Pray that he keeps moving forward.

Reflecting on that moment, I realized something deeper: I am Jacob more often than I care to admit:  spiritually stranded, powerless, and unable to fix myself. And Jesus, knowing my frailty, sent the Paraclete to stand beside me: to comfort, defend, guide, and intercede.

We all need an Advocate. The good news of Pentecost is that we have one.